To You, Love Emily
by Persephone999
Summary: Hello. I'm Emily, perhaps we can be friends. I hope.
1. Chapter 1

This is just an idea I've had. I wanted to see if I could write an OC story without creating a Mary Sue. You can decide on how sucessful I was in this endeavor. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story.

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><p><span>To<span> You, Love Emily

Chapter 1

The best thing about imaginary friends? They can't judge you. That's why I'm writing in this notepad/diary/journal/whatever you want to call it. Then again, I guess you can't call it anything because you're just paper. If there is a You, then you only found this by rummaging around in my stuff(Matilda, I'm looking at you! Get out of my bag. Now.). That, or you live on the other side of the blue-bricked wall between fantasy and reality, along with faeries and dragons and other people's imaginary friends.

"What are you writing?" my sister asked me five minutes ago over the spluttering of the car engine, peering over her glasses at my notepad with a raised eyebrow. "Tell me you're not going to write out any of those dumb _twu wuv_ quotes." The words "true love" were accompanied by a high, whining tone and a pair of green eyes swivelling in their sockets. "You know the thing about Romeo and Juliet is that they die at the end".

Feeling my cheeks go red- redder than usual- I shook my head.

"No, Mattie," I mumbled.

"What?"

"No, Mattie," I promised, a little louder this time. My sister grunted, appeased, then stuck her headphones back in. Pointlessly, by the way- seriously, I think she must be the only person in the world who listens to Beethoven on full blast. But I shouldn't be complaining. Her life's been uprooted thanks to me. Well, technically she got expelled on her own, but it was over me... I don't want to talk about that. I'd rather get that out of my head, or at least throw it in a secret compartment in my brain and leave it to disintegrate.

So. I guess I'm going to be writing to you a lot, now I haven't got any friends. Just in case Jane decides to read this, I should probably say that this is just until I get some friends at my new school: Bullworth Academy. I don't need this little, pink notepad. I don't. It's just to get rid of brainfrizz- stuff I can't tell Jane or Aunt Deirdre.

Maybe I should think of a better name than You. I was thinking of naming you Charlotte, like my mother, but she doesn't like her name. She doesn't even like "Charlie" or "Lotte"(which I personally think is kind of cute). It'd be a compliment to you, definitely. Mom's gorgeous. You'd never think she was in her forties. And really clever. Smarter than me, though that's not saying much. That said, I don't think I want to talk to Mom about... It's so... What would I say to her? "Hey, Mom, sorry about the "slut" thing! Hug and make up?"

Anne Frank called her diary "Kitty", but I have a feeling that's not a good idea considering all the cats Aunt Deirdre keeps. If she sees me writing "Dear Kitty", she'll think I'm out of my head. Still, it was nice of her to get us a placement in Bullworth. Most places aren't willing to accept people who've been expelled.

Some variation on my name, maybe? Emilia? Emilie? That'd be fitting, I guess, since I'm sort of talking to myself by writing to a notepad like it's a penpal. I suppose I could say that you're a penpal, but where would I post the letter to? Could I give you a boy's name? Oh for the love of coconuts, what am I saying? You're a notepad, you don't have a sex. Gender.

The car's only ten minutes away from Bullworth now, so I'd better put this away. I'll pick a name for you when I'm unpacked. Or I could always just stick with You. Then again, maybe I'm better off not writing any name at all- if I get attatched to my imaginary friend then I'll be totally screwed.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed this so far. Admittedly, I had some reservations about writing an OC. If this gets Sueish, then someone please let me know so I can sort it out. Thanks.

If anyone has the time, I have a poll up regarding to this story. Feel free to vote on it.

Disclaimer: If I owned the rights to Bully, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction for it. I'd be dancing for joy.

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><p><span>Chapter 2<span>

If nothing else, the dormitories in this place are gorgeous. The walls are painted pink like the flowers outside our window, the ones with the beautiful perfume that floats through the open window with the September sunshine. Sitting down on one of the soft beds in our room, I let out a held-in breath and closed my eyes, a smile spreading over my face.

Mattie was less enthusiastic.

"Pink?" she exclaimed when we came in, her green eyes wide with horror. "Urgh. We don't have to stay here at weekends, do we?" she asked, yanking me out of my daydreams.

"I think we're staying at Aunt Deirdre's. She said we could use her spare rooms, but I guess it's better to stay here when we've got class," I replied as my eyes drifted to the bed in the far right corner of the room, trying to predict the personality of the girl who usually slept in it. Posters of leather-clad singers with heavy eyeliner and technicolour hair had been tacked above the bed. A stack of magazines sat by the bed; motorcycle magazines, music magazines, magazines with intimidating models glaring with kohl-rimmed eyes. So, probably not a girl-next-door type.

"I guess," my sister muttered, pushing her fringe back. "I can't believe we have to wear skirts. I mean, skirts! Freakin' skirts! In this weather!"

"Keep it down!"

"But it's freezing! And boys'll try an' look up them."

"They won't."

"One of them'll try. Why can't we wear trousers?" Staring at the corner, she pushed her glasses back to the bridge of her nose with a bitten forefinger. "Do you think they'll believe me if I say it's against my religion to wear skirts?" she asked me, tucking back a bit of brown hair that hung to about her chin.

"Doubt it. Think they already know we're Protestants. It'll be on the forms, probably."

"Shit." my sister said, a little too loudly.

"That had better not be bad language in there!" cried an old lady's voice from the hallway.

"It wasn't," I called, throwing a pleading glance at Mattie. I heard the woman's footsteps patter away. "Your voice could rip the roof down."

"Don't exaggerate. So." My sister sat on the bed beside me. "Any ideas who our roommate'll be?"

"Dunno. Hopefully someone nice."

"Can't be worse than the pricks in the last shithole," Mattie half-smiled, flinging an arm around my shoulders. Smiling, I leaned over and hugged her back with one arm. "You wouldn't believe how much fun it was getting even on those guys."

"Worth the black eye?" I asked.

"Yep. And the bloody nose, and the scratches." She squeezed me quickly then stood up, smoothing out her favourite shirt- the black one with a surprisingly scary picture of a rabbit in light blue.. She'd ordered it off some Donnie Darko fansite with the help of Mom's credit card. Mom grounded her when she found out.

"Hey." A low voice almost like a boy's made me look to the door. Gloved hands swaying as she strode towards us, the red-haired girl's brown eyes ran over Mattie and me, trying to decide whether she was going to give us the time of day, then smiled at my sister. "Donnie Darko. Cool. Guessing you're the newbies?"

"Yeah." Mattie pointed to herself, then me. "Mattie and Em."

"I'm Zoe," the girl replied, folding her arms. "I got here around the end of last term, but let me know if you want showing around town. You won't get lost around the school, it's pretty tiny."

"Thanks," I mumbled, unhunching my shoulders. Calm down, Emily, she won't bite your head off. "I think I have a map of the place." I added, not wanting to inconvenience this conspicuous, punky girl.

"Huh. 'Kay." Zoe shrugged, her voice not indicating annoyance or pleasure at my comment. "Just avoid eye-contact at all costs." She tugged the door of the oak wardrobe open and pulled out a leather jacket. "I'm gonna go catch my boyfriend. See you guys around." she added, shutting the door behind her.

"She seems okay," Mattie commented, plopping down on the bed she'd chosen. Grunting in agreement, I unzipped my suitcase and pulled the top up.

"I don't think I'd want to get on her bad side, though," I added, taking my nightie out of my suitcase. "She looks tough."

"Everyone looks tough to you. You're such a wimp," she teased, kicking her sneakers off. Her feet dangled a few inches above the floor. "A kitten could scare you."

"I hope not, if we're staying with Aunt Deirdre at the weekend," I smiled. "She could open a petting zoo with all hers."

"Yeah, that's her all right. I wish we had a cat."

"Mom's allergic."

"I know, but still." Yawning, she stretched her arms above her head. "What time is it?" she asked, peering outside at the blackening sky.

"Not sure."

"Screw it, I'll have an early night." she muttered, falling back on her new bed with a thud. "I'll finish unpacking in the morning. Night!" she added, snoring before I could comment.

Once Mattie was asleep, I unpacked the rest of mine and my sister's stuff, pausing when I found two old teddies. One was Bluebell, the tatty blue cow I got for my third birthday, minus a button eye thanks to twelve years of love and cuddles. Sat next to it was a honey coloured teddy with a soft, stitched on smile, which Mattie won years ago on a crane machine. Mattie won't have put it in- she insists she's too old to sleep with a teddy now she's thirteen. She does anyway, but you didn't hear it from me. Maybe Mom put it in? Whoever put it in, I might as well admit I gave Bluebell a squeeze last night. How sad am I, eh? Fifteen years old and still needing a teddy for the first night at boarding school. Thank God I was awake before Zoe- I wonder what my new roommate would have to say about sharing a room with a big baby?

I have my first class in half an hour. Oh God, what if no one likes me? What if I annoy people? My new uniform isn't too bad; dark green skirt to my knees, blouse, knee socks and optional dark green jumper. I picked the long sleeved blouse, and hopefully I'll get away with black tights rather than knee socks if I keep my head down. They're hardly going to complain about me wanting less skin on display, right? Oh crap, what am I going to do if I get told off in front of everyone? Why can't I stop worrying? Calm down, Emily. It's just class. You've been to school before. And look how well it turned out.

Screw it, maybe those no point worrying about it. If it goes well, it goes well. If it doesn't... well, I guess I've still got my health.

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><p>A few quick questions for anyone who can be bothered:<p>

1. What do you think of Matilda so far?

2. Are there any characters you'd like to see in this story?

3. Is anyone particularly bothered about romance or pairings?


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to everyone for their feedback. There is currently a poll up for this story, if anyone has the time to vote. I hope that this chapter is a bit more interesting- I have an idea of where I'm going from here, now. There seems to be a lot of feedback for Gary, so we'll have to wait and see.

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><p><span>Chapter 3<span>

I've got a detention to go to in half an hour.

Holding my grey schoolbag above my head to keep off the rain, I ran to the main entrance faster than I'd ever moved before as any trace of optimism seep out through my shoes. Wringing my plait out, I ran across the linoleum to the staircase and pulled my map out of the bag.

"Let's see, Chemistry lab..." I mumbled, skimming over my map as I strode up the staircase, oblivious to the hustle and bustle surrounding me. "So it's upstairs, down the corridor-" Before I knew it I'd collided with a thick body with a thwack! "Sorry!" I squeaked, scrambling to grab my bag.  
>"Watch where you're going, pauper! Oh blast, I've got <em>poor person<em> on me!" the stranger protested, dusting down his light blue jumper. They seem to be pretty relaxed about the dress code here.  
>"Are you all-right?"<br>"You blue-collared hussy!" the boy exclaimed with a voice like Earl Grey tea. Storm-faced and snarling, he clenched his fists; I took this as my cue to run. It was here that I began to get an idea of the sort of place I was in.

Just as the bell shrieked, I bumbled into a lab room and nearly gagged on the smell: rotten eggs and gunpowder. Reeling, I stumbled to the nearest free desk, next to a ponytailed girl in a dark blue dress. Behind the front desk was a peculiar, shiny-headed man who reminded me of Dr. Finkelstein from A Nightmare Before Christmas. Then again, maybe that's me going into Tim Burton withdrawal. When he began to speak, his voice had a lost, far-away tone like someone who hadn't quite figured out where he was yet.

"Be sure to pay attention, everyone, as we will be working with volatile chemicals today," he told us, a warning I'd had every intention of following. Perhaps, if you truly exist and you really are reading this, you're good at Chemistry. I hope you are; but I'm not. Flicking to the page, I poured a blue liquid and a red liquid into my beaker, then turned on my bunsen burner to heat up the liquid, which had only just began to bubble when he caught my eye.

I only stared because he looked so much like Brad; intoxicating brown eyes, shining brown hair that curled at the back of his neck, a gold sleeper in his ear, a leather jacket. Glancing up from his own violet concoction, his mouth wriggle into a slight smile when he realised I was staring at him. He and Brad had that in common, too- that gorgeous mouth that used to kiss me, and taste me, and love me. Claim to love me, anyway. I don't want to think about it.

Anyway, the resemblance was enough for me not to pull my gaze away until I smelt burning fabric.

Then, and only then did I realise that... well... I _may_ have _accidentally_... set fire to the girl next to me. Well, her skirt, anyway. Seeing the fire singe the hem of the blue fabric, I gulped. Oh... crap.

"Um, excuse me?" I asked the gabbling girl, tapping her shoulder. Oblivious, she continued gossiping.  
>"So she was like, 'Give it back!'. I'm telling you, Chrissy, it was so pathetic."<br>"Excuse me, could I-"  
>"Can't you see I'm talking?" the girl hissed without looking at me. "So she was like, 'You can't just <em>steal<em> things from me!'."  
>"I need to-"<br>"So I told her straight up-"  
>"Your skirt's on fire!"<p>

That got her attention.  
>"What!" She spun around to face me, her eyebrows jumping up so high they were practically in the air above her head. Horrified, the cheerleader's eyes swivelled down to her smoking skirt and, seeing the amber fire crackling a few inches from her bare skin, her mouth stretched into a black cave as an ear-splitting scream ripped out.<br>"Mandy, what did she-" Seeing what had happened, the red-haired girl's hands flew in the air as she jumped back with a shriek. "Omi_god_! The new girl's set Mandy on fire!"

Within seconds, the lab became bedlam; the students became madmen, with the possible exception of a little boy who ran out of the room. The girl and her friend continued screaming; the teacher fainted; a wiry boy in a bright green sweater burst out laughing. Making my way through to the sink, I grabbed the nearest beaker and shoved it under the tap, my ears aching at the the noise. Once I managed to get a glass full, I shoved past the cackling boy and threw the water over the flames, only daring to breathe when the flame had drowned to a thin, steady line of smoke. Panic evaporated from the room as the screaming finally stopped, the stunned silence only broken by the door creaking open to reveal a stern, grey-suited man with a hook nose. Beside him was the little boy who'd ran out.

"What the devil is going on in here?" he demanded, his eyes scanning the remnants of the skirt fiasco. Mind whirring, I tried to catch the words, tried to pull an explanation from my throat.  
>"I- I- I-" How do you explain that without sounding like a psycho or a moron or both? Try as I might, the barbed wire coiled around my throat, choking me on my own fear. My unwitting victim's friend had no such trouble.<br>"Well," she began with a sing-song tone. "_I_ saw the new girl set Mandy on fire." she cackled, her green eyes glittering with spiteful excitement as she attempted to contain her giggles at my bumbling.

That, in a nutshell, is how I ended up with my first Bullworth detention.

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><p>Some quick questions if anyone has the time:<p>

1. What did you think of this chapter as a means to make Mandy a bit frosty towards Emily? I didn't want to just have random, incessant bitchiness for no reason. Also, I wanted to make Emily a bit hapless.

2. Someone has suggested Emily/Gary, while another person has suggested Mattie/Gary. If you like the ideas of these pairings, then how do you think these relationships would be?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I think I made a new friend today. I hope.

The classroom was bare except for a few desks, some chairs and a clock. No posters, nothing on the blackboard, only a small clock on the desk. A grey-haired old woman without an ounce of sweetness in her sat stormy-faced at the desk as though supervising a group of mass-murderers, though I guess I probably shouldn't complain- two months of detention is probably getting off lightly for accidental arson. At least the teachers realised it was accidental, or else I'd be thoroughly screwed, I considered as a girl in tight, squeaky pants sashayed into the room with an expression that could curdle milk.

"Tramp," the leather-clad girl grumbled, glaring at the door as she fell down dramatically in the seat beside me, then glared when she caught me staring. Her voice shot out from her scarlet lips, sharp and sour like lemon juice.

"Yes? What you lookin' at?"

"Um, nothing," Lowering my head, I wished I hadn't chosen to plait my hair- if I'd left it loose it would've given me something to hide behind, a pale yellow curtain to shield me from the girl's anger. "Sorry." I added in a mumble, turning away to stare at the etchings on my desk: _E loves B, 1993_. It occured to me that E probably couldn't remember B's face now. Maybe Brad didn't remember mine... No. Close your eyes, Emily. Don't you **_dare_** miss him. Blue sky, green grass, yellow sun; find your happy place.

"You okay?" The voice was softer this time, though still a little sharp. A blood-painted tallon tapped my shoulder. "Hey, don't look like that." Reassured by the warm hand rubbing my shoulder, I dared lift my eyes.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. Look, I didn't mean to snap, okay? I'm Lola." Funny, she looked so much less scary smiling, though maybe not totally harmless- the brown flicks at the corner of each eye reminded me of a sleek, groomed, expensive cat.

"Emily," I half-whispered.

"Speak up, sweetie." The pet name gave me a pinprick of fear- niceties in Bullworth seemed to be as normal as dragons in kindergartens. Nontheless, I repeated it, to which she said, "Hmm, cute. So what're you doing here, then?"

"I... sort of set a girl on fire."

"Whoa!" Throwing her hands up in a "Don't shoot!" movement, she leaned back. "Why'd you do that?"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" I exclaimed, blinking a few times as the light bulb flickered. "It was an accident. I was in Chemistry and I wasn't looking." Every drop of blood in my body surged to my cheeks. Great introduction, Em: Oh, hi, I start fires! Brainless... "No-Nobody got hurt. A skirt got a bit charred... but that's all... I swear."

"Okay, then... I guess. Whose skirt was it?" the girl asked as though it made any difference.

"Um..." I tried to remember my "victim's" name. "She was wearing blue..." I watched Lola's eyes widen. "And she was talking to a girl with red hair?"

"Was it Pinky Gauthier?" she asked with a rising note of excitement. "Wait, what kind of blue was it? Light blue or dark blue?"

"Dark-ish."

"Oh, it was Mandy." For some reason she sounded mildly disappointed. Shrugging, she offered me a smile. "If it makes you feel better, she's a tramp. And a bitch. Half of Bullworth's seen her boobs for free," she added, the disgust in her voice shooting through me. Would she speak to me if she found out about my old school?

"Anyway," she grinned. "You seen any guys you like yet?"

"I, uh... I'm not interested in getting a boyfriend just now." It wasn't exactly a lie in my defence.

"So?" she smiled. "Just because you ain't buying don't mean you can't browse the merchandise. Come on, the guy's here aren't _that_ ugly. The bunch Johnny- he's the head greaser, my boyfriend- The bunch Johnny hangs out with are okay-ish looks wise. You should see if you like any of them. It might get one of the bastards to quit whining at me. Then again, maybe you're better off single," she said, shaking her bob. "One kiss of a greaser and he thinks he owns you. So which one, then? Did you have a guy at your old school?"

Feeling my face flash red, I shrugged. I might be best feigning innocence in this place, given my track record. Where was I? Oh yeah, back to the conversation.

"I haven't really met any boys yet. You're probably only the..." Let me see, does knocking a boy over and setting a girl on fire count as meeting them? "You're one of the first people I've really talked to."

"Charmed. You wanna speak up a little, sweetie. You're really quiet... No, don't worry, it's a good thing. Means you might have a quiet life here." Another lipstick-red smile. "What's your type, then? There aren't that many girls here, kiddo, you're bound to get a few offers. Slim pickin's."

I couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Wow, a giggle!" Lola raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows. "A little one, but still. Come on, spill."

"Um... Thoughtful and understanding?"

Flattening the collar of her leather jacket, she chuckled.

"Thoughtful, sure. Yeah, you're better off sticking to tall, dark 'n' handsome here, baby-doll. You're in for a disappointment if you're looking for a brain in Bullworth."

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><p>Thanks for reading. Thinking of making Lola a supporting character through this story. The next chapter is probably going to be more about Mattie. If you've got any questionscomments/complaints about the story so far, please let me know. Thank you so much to everyone who's been giving me opinions on this and tips on how to improve.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Today looked like paradise. Set in a blue sky, a bright dandelion sun kissed the summer leaves above my head as I perched on the bench, my feet chained to the spot as the cheerleaders bounced like bunnies, chanting to the soccer game: "Bullworth, Bullworth, we're the best! Bullworth girls have lovely breasts!" The gawping guys clearly agreed. (What is it about teenage boys thinking it's okay to perve in plain sight?)

Sucking the end of my plait, I pulled a romance novel from my bag(guilty pleasure) and gazed at the cover, wondering what jewel lay inside the paper chest. Painted waves crashed together around an embracing couple- perhaps a mermaid falling in love with a shipwrecked sailor? Mattie hated guessing games: "Just read the dumb thing and find out for yourself!" was her philosophy. It used to get on Brad's nerves too.

Damn it, Em! Can't you forget him for five minutes? I'd be better off if I could gather all my memories of him- good and bad- and stick them down a sewer grate. But I can't... I should... I don't want to.

A pebble skimmed the air and smacked into my shoulder blade with a ripple of pain.  
>"Hey, Emily!"<p>

Even before I turned around, the honeydew voice told me who it was. Smiling, I shuffled over and patted the spot beside me, dropping my expression when she shook her head. Clacking forward a few steps, she lifted her hand to the sky. On cue, I stood up.  
>"I'm going into town. Are you coming?" she asked with a candy-kiss grin.<br>"I would, but I have a class."  
>"So?" Her tone was light, whimsical. "Come on, it's not like you're doing anything. Of course, if you'd rather sit and watch heaving, sweaty muscle-men flex for each other..."<p>

We went to a new ice-cream parlour in town, where the greasy-skinned waiter forgot to charge us thanks to Lola's smile.  
>"Tuck in," she encouraged, rubbing her spoon with a napkin before she used it. "You're not allergic, are you?"<br>"No." The first spoonful of strawberry sorbet made my teeth tingle. "Do you know him?" I asked, tipping my head in the waiter's direction.  
>"Never seen him in my life," she chuckled, giving the blushing waiter a dainty smile. "Call it a gift. Dumbass," she added when his back turned. "So how you settling in?"<br>"I've been here two days and I've set someone on fire," I mumbled, staring into my lap.

Lola giggled.  
>"It was only Mandy. If it had been a greaser, then sure."<br>"Is that what you are?"  
>"Ain't bright, are you?" She leaned over and rubbed my shoulder with a smile. "Yep, that's me. Same for anyone who grew up in New Conventry... save Luis, of course." she added sourly before brightening again. "So, where do you live?"<br>"The dorms, and my aunt says we can go sleep at hers over the weekends."  
>"Who's your aunt?"<br>"Deirdre..." I wondered if she was using her married name. "She teaches Art at Bullworth."  
>"Ms. Phillips?" my friend checked. "Aww, she's nice. Her, Neil and Galloway are the only teachers worth a dime 'round here. How's your sundae?"<br>"Delicious," I said gratefully. "So are there a lot of greasers?"

"There's a couple of us. You only really need to remember Johnny's in charge. Well, he thinks he is." The last bit was whispered. "Anyway, I think the guys are at the Tenements this Saturday. Wanna join me?" she offered. "They might get off my back if there's someone to impress," she added mischeivously. "Bastards think I'm Johnny's wife."  
>"I think I'd like to. Thanks, by the way," I smiled quietly, my cheeks as pink as my ice cream. "For the sundae and the invite-"<br>"And rescuing you from Gym."  
>"That too." I agreed, my lips twitching into a smile. Bradley played football. Stop it, brain.<p>

Glancing to the door, I caught sight of a big, red tomato of a man swaggering across to the bar, followed by admiring eyes. "Who's he?"

Lola swivelled round quickly then turned her head back to me, an eyebrow raised. "Him? That's Mr. Smith. He invests in damn near everything."  
>"What's he like?"<br>"Rich. Crappy family, though. His son's a deadbeat. His daughter-in-law hates him. His grandson used to go to Bullworth, but he went kinda-" She pointed to her face, twizzled her finger and tipped her head from side to side, her tongue stuck out. "He's in Happy Volts now."  
>"Ouch."<br>"Yeah, the guy's got a gene pool like the Jerry Springer show. I'm sort of surprised he hasn't bribed some rich school into taking the kid," she added. "I pity the school that ends up with a lunatic like that."

The conversation curled up and died. Moving onto the next lump of ice cream, I looked for something to say. "Do you have a lesson this afternoon?"  
>"Yeah."<br>"Are you going to it?"  
>"Hell, no!"<br>We both laughed.

We got back to Bullworth in time for my detention, which I used to flit through my book. Once I got to my room, Mattie had finished all her homework and was lost in a heavy, leather bound book. How did she carry that with her spindly little arms?  
>"You wouldn't believe the library here," she commented, not lifting her eyes from the page. Her bust lip had healed over. "The computers don't work, though. No internet connection."<br>"That's why we came," I reminded her, setting my bag down on one of the desks. "Fresh start, remember?"  
>"Fair point. Besides, I don't think Mom would trust me around a computer anymore," she laughed, glancing up. "Still, I can see this place getting very dull very quick. All anyone seems to do is gossip or fight," she huffed as I pulled my book out. "It's like a madhouse- like a zoo!"<br>"Like our old school?" I suggested. A lie. I loved the place- well, when I had friends there, before I was _that_ girl.

A shrieking symphony of giggles shot through our wall.  
>"Oh for... What could be so funny?" Mattie demanded, blowing a brown curl out of her face.<br>"I don't know," I replied, trying to seperate the laughs and match them with faces in my memory. One was unmistakable.  
>"And then she said..."<br>"Mattie, I'll be right back, okay?"  
>"Where are you going?" my sister asked, pushing her square-rimmed glasses back up her nose.<br>"Just next door."  
>"Tell them to shut up," she grumbled as I shut the door.<p>

Taking a deep breath, I listened to the quick, slightly squeaky babble ricocheting around the room. Exhaling, I smoothed my skirt, dread sinking through my skin as I wrapped my fingers around the cold, metal doorknob. A disgusting tang bit my tongue as I tried to find the right words. How do you apologise for setting someone on fire?

"I mean, I know guys are in love with me..." the cheerleader continued, her voice louder as the door creaked open. Her mouth running at top speed, she managed to slash a dab of lip gloss across her moving lips. "I mean, who isn't, right?" Seeing me, the red-haired girl from before looked up from her _Chatter!_ and grinned like a spectator at a boxing match. Beside her, a bespecled Asian stared solemnly- she pitied me.

"And anyway, I was all like, 'What the hell?', and he said-" I can't tell you who "He" was or what he said because the second she saw me, the cheerleader's brown eyes turned to slits. "What do _you_ want?" she spat, addressing me like a queen talks to a particularly useless scullery maid.

My words whimpered in my throat, not wanting to be thrown out into the air. Why can't they teach lessons for situations like this? Oh yeah, of course: Because they assumed that a fifteen year old could be trusted with a chemistry set.  
>"I..." I glanced at the copperhead, half expecting her to pull out a bag of popcorn. "I wanted to say sorry. For... you know."<br>"Apology not accepted. Now get out."  
>"You tell her, Mandy."<br>"Christy," the other girl chastised quietly.  
>"Now." Mandy's voice was harder this time, an order I was more than happy to obey.<br>"Okay. Well, thanks anyway," I mumbled, shutting the door quietly behind me and shuffling back into mine and Mattie's room. Isn't apologising generally meant to make you feel better?

"What's with you?" Mattie asked.  
>"Nothing," I replied. I wasn't worried she'd do anything- Mattie's generally only brave if she's sure she won't get caught- but I didn't want her worrying. Re-opening my book, I tried to forget that I was already on bad terms with someone. One in sixty isn't too bad, right? Well, three if you count her friends... Assuming she wasn't friends with anyone else... Crap.<br>"Fine, don't tell me. It turns out the kids here work forn each other, you know."  
>"What?"<br>"I saw a notice on the bulletin board. Apparently some of the students here are looking for a maid for Harrington House, which according to my map is basically a dorm for kids whose parents pay the Principal."

Hmm... I can keep a room clean. I bet I could get that job, you know. And then I could buy Mandy a new skirt to say sorry for burning the other one, and then maybe we can be friends. All right, that might be a bit optimistic. Maybe she won't despise me.

"Em?" The honeydew voice was followed by the clack of kitten heels. "There you are. I was starting to panic- thought you'd been stuck with Pinky. Who's this?" she asked, glancing at Mattie.  
>"My sister," I smiled, turning to check my sister's reaction. "Mattie, this is Lola." Casting an eye over Lola's lipstick and leather pants, Mattie bit her lip, then turned to me with a final sideways glance at my friend and nodded. Rough translation: I'm not sure about this, Sis, but I know you're not going to listen to me and besides, your friend looks tougher than me. Coming from my sister, that's high praise. Lola nodded before looking back to me.<br>"Moving on, I thought I'd drop by and see what you're wearing for Saturday night so we don't clash," she smiled breezily, hands resting on her hips. My forehead creasing with concentration, I tried to think.  
>"Uh..."<br>"You want a hand?"  
>"Yes, please."<p>

I felt as though I was being graded as Lola rummaged through my wardrobe- an F, to be specific. Admittedly, I might have been a little hasty leaving my favourite green dress at home with my makeup, nail-polish and sparkly tops. I feel so bare without them. Maybe I've left my old personality at home, too.  
>"Are you Amish, baby-doll?" Lola asked, holding up a grey turtle-necked sweater with an expression that could rot an apple. "Screw it, I'll be back in two minutes." She came back with a red box with a bow on top. At first I thought it was a present from her boyfriend. "Here, you can borrow it. Peach isn't my colour. Don't tell Johnny it's mine," she added, dropping it into my hands. "He'll go crazy again." Why? What's wrong with having a new dress? Before I could ask, she gave me a quick and sashayed out, leaving a trail of perfume and a "See ya, baby-doll!" behind her.<br>"What's happening Saturday?" Mattie asked. Carefully, I placed the box under my bed where it wouldn't be tripped over, a smile on my face that I still have as I'm writing. I have a friend here! I had a cheerleader who probably didn't like me, but I have a _friend_!  
>"I'm going out," I replied, a bright, rising note in my voice I hadn't heard since I came to Bullworth.<p>

Mid-week review: I have a friend. I have a borrowed dress. I have something to do on Saturday night. I have a cheerleader who doesn't like me, but I think I can fix it. I have a friend. Maybe this place isn't completely awful.

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><p>Thanks to everyone reading and reviewing.<p>

1) What is your opinion of Emily? Too bland? Too cliched? Should I give a bit more insight to her background in the next chapter?


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Do you have sisters? Funny, how I'm telling you all about myself but I don't know a thing about you- not even your name. I want to name you, but a name has to suit a face, and as far as I know you haven't got either. Maybe that's the beauty of it- anyone reading this doesn't know me, so I can tell you anything I want to.

I haven't got anything interesting to tell you about yet. Perhaps you'd like to hear about Mattie's week so far? Or what she's told me? Listen to me, asking a notepad questions. You can't talk back. You don't have a mouth, you don't have a voice, you can't say a word. Ah, what the hell. If whoever's reading this doesn't want to know, they can flip the page, but I have the pen, so I'm going to choose what we talk about... Sorry, that was a bit obnoxious.

Anyway, let's take a tour of Planet Mattie, starting Monday morning. Streaming sunlight ricochets off the linoleum as my sister strides along, holding a map in front of her. She's probably humming, or chewing gum, the rubbery watermelon brands that tastes like an eraser after sixty seconds. Her first lesson is Art, with Aunt Deirdre- not a bad start. Mattie's creativity is limited to drawing cartoon people and rude body parts in the margin of her notes, but Aunt Deirdre is swell, so she'll try. She'll fail, but she'll try.

"Russell smash!"  
>The battle roar rips Mattie's eyes away from the map. Lumbering in the middle of the corridor is King Kong in a school-uniform, a gangly, green-vested scrap of a boy dangling from the gorilla's fist by the scruff of his neck. To the kid's credit, he swings forward a little and throws a puny fist at the ape(he misses). Within a second, a polished thud smacks through the corridor as flesh hits metal. Darting into cover behind the wall, Mattie presses her ear to the wall. Yelling in Mattie's right ear, the angel on her shoulder tells her to help him, but her common sense is louder: There's no way you can beat that guy.<br>"Homoneanderthalian!" the scrap yelled(think I've spelt that right). "You should be-" Before the next word can reach Mattie's ears, a metal locker door swings open with a rusty creak, and the gorilla-guy throws the boy into the locker with a thud. The door shuts and Bullworth Kong lumbers off with a cheer from an onlooker, an acne-scarred blonde boy in jeans who sneers at Mattie as he passes her.

Schoolbell ringing in her ears, Mattie stands stuck to the spot. You see, my little sister would like to think she can fight the world, but can't. She is, for the most part, a barking, biteless terrier- unless she thinks she can get away with mischief. Is there anyone coming down the corridor? No, they've went to class. Does she hear voices? Silence. Did the shirted ape see her face? Maybe, but only a glimpse. Low risk situation.

Breath louder than wind, Mattie tiptoes to the locker, her blue sneakers squeaking like mice now that the boy's stopped banging. Her inky, bitten hand curves around the dial. Click. Click. Clickclickclickclickclick. Why is everything louder when you're trying to be quiet? Clickety click, crrrack! Jackpot. Before Mattie can even step back, the door swings open, smacking her so hard she topples back and lands on her bum. Holding a smarting hand to her mouth, she feels something hot and wet on her lip as she sees the boy leap out of the locker.  
>"Yeth!" Punching the air, the beaming boy spins around to look at the bleeding girl on the floor. "Salutations, and my perpetual gratitude for your termination of my confinement."<br>"Yeah, yeah, whatever," my sister interrupts, pulling herself up. "Don't mention it. What happened anyway?"  
>"Oh, Bullworth is home a plethora of homunculi."<br>"Right," she groans, rubbing her swollen cheek and mouth. "Do you know where I can get a first aid kit?"  
>"Nurse McRae. Who are you, anyway?"<br>"Mattie. Can we leave the introductions till I'm not bleeding?"  
>"I'm Thad." Grabbing her arm, the green-vested boy pulls her down the corridor. "Sick bay is down here."<p>

They get about halfway down the corridor when they hear another voice: "Hey, dweeb!"

Mattie's head snaps around to more muscle-bound giants- this time in football shirts.  
>"Who are-" Mattie's question dies in the air as the players swarm around her and the nerd.<br>"Got a girlfriend, Thad?"  
>"Yeah, you got a girlfriend, Thad?" sneers another boy.<br>"Go away," Thad snaps. The scrawny boy's fist clench.  
>"Huh, he thinks he's tough."<br>"Hey, look at her face," smirks another, pointing to Mattie's swollen cheek. Wincing, my sister takes a few steps back. "You hit little girls, Thad?"  
>"Yeah, you hit little girls, Thad?" Collectively, the giants clench their fists and advance on Thad, encircling him like a membrane as my sister slips out of harm's reach. Do they really believe he hit her, or is it an excuse?<p>

Mattie shudders back against the wall as the first punch is thrown- by Thad(Thad!). Again he misses, and soon pays for it with a smack over the head. Watching as they begin the beatdown, Mattie's green eyes dart around as she looks for a prefect. There's bound to be one, she's seen at least four this morning. Edging around the corner, she sees the fire alarm and an open locker. The noise of the fight tumbles around the corner to her, echoing of the door of a locker. Instinctively, her hand hits the fire alarm, then yanks a locker door open before my sister crawls into it as a voice crackles through the speakers: "Whoever pulled that fire alarm, _you're going to burn in Hell!_"

The one good thing about Bullworth Mattie discovers: The prefects are _very_ enthusiastic. Though she can't see the Jocks dart off, she can hear the stampede of thudding footsteps, the dark "See you later, dork.", the deep bellow of "Evildoerrrrrr!". When she's sure that they've gone, Mattie slips out of the locker and around the corner to check on the green-vested boy. Safe and sound, he smiles at her.  
>"Thank you," the boy gushes before darting off to his class. Waving, Mattie smiles back, then glances at the clock. Her face falls as now and only now she realises that she's an hour late to Art.<p>

"Oh, for the love of-"

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><p>Thanks for reading.<p>

1) Did Mattie seem okay in this chapter? Part of the reason for this was because there'd been little focus on her so far, and I didn't want her to be just a background object.

2) Should I focus on Mattie a little more before I write Saturday night?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Thursday on Planet Mattie; cold, crisp and grey. Leaves crackle beneath Mattie's sneakers as she walks out of the main building. The third day at Bullworth Academy, and so far the calmest. Barely any fights today. No one pulled the fire alarm. No one asked about the bruise on her cheek or her split lip. Only two people drew rude pictures in Art(and Miss Phillips said one of them was ingenius). All in all, a day with very little chaos.

That said, she isn't back at the dorm yet.

"Hey."

As Mattie spins around she's almost blinded by the sunlight burning around Zoe. Her hot, orange hair seems to scorch with its own heat, as though her brain is on fire with ideas.  
>"Who'd you piss off?" Zoe asked, pointing to Mattie's yellow-purple bruise. The girl's voice is husky, in a pleasant way- my sister prefers it to cheerleader babble.<br>"No one," Mattie told her. "Locker door."  
>"Sure," Zoe muttered, rolling her eyes as she leaned against the wall of the main building. Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out a cigarette packet. Pulling out a cigarette, she glances at Mattie. "Who was it, then? Your old man?"<br>"Don't have one," Mattie replies. We don't, not anymore. As much as I'd like to tell you some fantastic story about my dad saving babies in Africa or fighting oppression in Korea, but I'll be honest and say he left us for his twenty year-old secretary.  
>"What happened to yours?"<br>"Who cares?"  
>"That bad, huh?" the older asks in that oddly low voice of hers. Reclining against the brick wall, she sticks a cigarette in her mouth. She doesn't light it, she just sucks it. Like a kid with a lollipop.<p>

Turning her head, Mattie stared at the slate sky.  
>"Are you waiting for someone?" she asks to move away from the topic.<br>"Godot."  
>"You too?" Mattie smiles, her eyebrows jumping up to hide under her fringe. So the punk could read?<p>

"Yeah, the poser's taking forever, so I'll settle for Jimmy- that's my boyfriend."  
>"How long have you been with him?" my sister asks.<br>"Not for much longer if he doesn't hurry up," Zoe grumbles. Has something happened? There's too much venom in her voice for lost time. "You got the time?"

Mattie shakes her head.  
>"Fuck it, if he's not here in five minutes I'm gone," the punk says, puckering her pink lips around the unlit cigarette. Her eyes shut- the lashes are chocolate-coloured, like Zoe's eyes the freckle on her wrist. Skirt swishing, she crosses the right leg over the left one. Steel-toed boots, polish black. A shark tooth on a bit of string around her neck, resting on the collar bone. Mattie thinks she can see a tatto on the older girl's hip through her blouse, but before she can tell for sure her name is shouted by a wheezy, familiar voice.<p>

Locker boy again. Groaning, my little sister shuts her eyes for a moment, as though the boy in the green vest will vanish if she can't see him. (He doesn't.)  
>"Greetings, Ma'am." One comfort- he forgot her name, too. But is that a yardstick sticking out from his pocket? And that stench...<br>"Listen, I have to go and-"  
>"Dweeb!" Not again. Pulling Mattie so close she gags, the boy shoves his hand into her pocket then darts off, pursued by an ogre in a football jersey as Zoe drawls in her low, gravelly, watery voice.<br>"What the hell was that about?"

Shrugging at the taller, tougher, prettier girl, Mattie feels blood rush to her cheeks. (The family curse: None of us can hide our feelings.)  
>"I don't know," she mumbled, looking down at her dusty, blue sneakers. Frowning, the punk was about to say something until a bald boy strode over. They walked off hand in hand.<p>

Ugly pink walls glare at Mattie as she walks into the- she refuses to call it her- room. Where's that moron sister of hers? In the library, no doubt, trying to find the romance section. Looking for _twu lub_. Perhaps she'd find unicorns while she was there, too. Glancing over at Zoe's bed, she makes a note of the bands plastered onto the ceiling. Looking for a pen, she dips into her pockets.

But what's this? Pulling the folded note out of her pocket, she skimmed the immaculate handwriting:

_Meet me at the Auditorium at 7pm, Saturday._

_Thad._

Ah, so that was Locker Boy's name! Smiling for a moment, a frown flashed over Mattie's face. He wasn't asking for a date, was he? Biting her healing lip, she listened to the cheerleaders giggling next door and re-read the note, then lay down to think, leaving the note crumpled on her bedside.

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><p>Sorry for taking forever with this chapter, but I have a less clear view of Mattie than Emily, so I needed to think more about what to do with her. If anyone has the time, a question or two about this chapter:<p>

1) What is your opinion of Mattie?

2) What could I improve about this chapter?


	8. Chapter 8

I know it took me forever to upload this but my computer decided to throw a hissy fit so I'm having to use my dad's laptop and have limited access. I will try and write as much as I can during the holidays, and hopefully I can have my computer looked at soon. Anyway, thank you for continuing through the story and for the encouragement I've received. You guys are brilliant.

Disclaimer: If I owned the rights to Bully I wouldn't be writing fanfiction. I'd be making Bully 2.

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><p><span>Chapter 8<span>

I was never a Barbie doll girl.

I said I liked them when my friends gushed about them, but on my own they were a little creepy- pointy-breasted, glassy-eyed, corpse-cold caricatures of teenage girls that couldn't possibly compete with soft plushies. Speaking of which, is it weird that I still cuddle Bluebell sometimes?

Unlike me, my middle-school friend Abby loved Barbies; so I said I did, too. Britney Rosabell(her doll) was always a princess. Mine was always a maid, a servant- or the wicked witch. Anything else made her storm off in a huff. Then one year my mom bought me a new doll, some collectors' edition thing with a midnight blue gown and shimmering copper hair that made Abby demand her mom bought her one, too. The tantrum she pulled when her mom said no! Steam literally blew out of her ears. You're a horrible mother, I hate you! she sobbed as though she'd been slapped. The tears continued for a whole week until I gave her mine, at which point she smiled, ran off and never spoke to me again.

Tonight, as Lola zipped buttoned me into her dress, I felt a little bit like a Barbie doll, especially when I saw my friend beaming like a little girl.  
>"I thought it'd suit you," she grinned triumphantly as she spun me around, the apricot fabric swirling around my knees. A second later, she frowned. "You're not leaving you're hair that way, right?" she asked, the note of disapproval in her honey-dew voice making me wince. What was wrong with leaving it like that? "Turn around. If I don't do something about that damn plait I'm gonna scream." Before I could protest, her manicured hands were unravelling my plait at top speed, only stopping to pick up a hairbrush. "Don't look at me like that. It looks better down, anyway. The plait makes you look like a nine year old who's stuffed socks up her shirt." Blood rushing to my cheeks, I smothed imaginary creases out of my-Lola's- skirt.<br>"Maybe I should put on my sweater," I mumbled, a stray strand of blonde hair tickling my collarbone.  
>"Your school sweater?" Lola asked as though talking through a mouthful of peppered apples. "You wanna wear a snot-green sweater over this dress?"<br>"Uh-"  
>"No."<br>"But it might be cold."  
>"It's fricking August!" she exclaimed, dusting my cheeks delicately with a powder brush. "Don't bite your lip at me, sweetie. I have three younger sisters, pouting doesn't work on me." Dabbing a waxy, cherry-scented gloss on my lips, she smiled and opened a compact mirror in front of my face. "There. Not bad, if I say so myself."<p>

I'd wore tons of makeup at my old school; foundation, eyeliner, mascara, lip liner, lipstick, lip gloss, eyeshadow, straightened hair, nail polish. Leaving my makeup bag at home instead of bringing it to Bullworth made me feel like I'd left my personality at home. But that was exactly what I wanted- I _had_ to leave myself at home. That was part of the reason I hadn't wanted to look at my reflection- my lips were too thin, my eyelashes were too short, my face was too ugly without have a jar of cosmetics smeared over it. Lola had to basically shove the mirror against my nose to show me.

In my old school, you couldn't see my face for all the makeup I used; foundation, eyeshadow, lipliner, lipstick, lipgloss, eyeliner, mascara, concealer, mascare, lip gloss, blusher. Looking back, I can't think how I went bare-faced for an entire week. When I left my makeup at home I felt like I'd left my face at home, like I'd left myself at home. That was the point. But here, looking at Lola's careful handiwork, I felt more like me than I had in a while. I wasn't the old Emily, the that girl I'd left at home, but I wasn't the bland, blank girl I'd came to Bullworth as. This Emily, with her plump, pink lips and peachy cheeks, had what my mom would call a bit of sparkle, a soft inner glow- not a glass girl reflecting what others wanted to see. Lola's dress was so soft I barely felt it against my skin. It was like water. It was like I imagined a first kiss. It was the way Brad never... Emily, don't. You. Dare.

"C'm'ere. If I don't do something about that damn hair, I'm going to scream."

Letting Lola unravel my plait, I ran my hands over the smooth skirt. A quick moment of girliness here: the skirt frothed about around my knees, the neck held just high enough to hide any cleavage. There were buttons at the back. Did the person who bought the dress buy it to unbutton it? Looking at Lola, I wondered if she was _that girl_ too. I decided I didn't care.

The ends of my hair tickled my face as we walked, but I didn't dare brush them away. A symphony of gold and russet leaves rustled over the pavement as we walked, heels tapping to a halt at the sound of a deep, polished voice.

"Lola."

In front of us stood a boy about our age with dark hair, an Aquaberry sweater and a voice that I could only assume came from watching too many Bond films. Swaggering over he smiled at Lola, and it was as though a switch flicked in her brain. She smiled differently, and her voice sounded a little husky.

"Tad honey. Fancy bumping into you!" she beamed with a voice like marshmallows drenched in melted chocolate, covered in sprinkles and drizzled with syrup. He smirked.

"The pleasure's all mine," he chuckled, one hand behind his back. "I have something for you. Perhaps I could speak to you in..." The second he saw what I was wearing his eyebrows jumped up like grasshoppers. "What is-"

"Oh, you two don't know each other yet?" my friend smiled sweetly, pulling me forward. "This is Emily. Doesn't she look adorable? Emmy, this is Tad Spencer, a special friend of mine." So this was who kindly donated the dress. "Now what were you saying honey?"

"Oh." Quicker than a magician he produced a pink, heart-shaped box with frills around the sides. On top a name was curled in swirly, gold script: Tallulah Love confectionery. What is it about companies using words like "love" to sell products? Buy this perfume and he'll marry you. Buy this dress and he'll love you forever. If you even think about buying cheap shampoo he'll leave you for your sister and you'll die an old spinster... Dear God, when did I turn into a cynic? I sound like Mattie.

Anyway...

"I was hoping we could talk privately?" Tad asked. The sort of talking that involves writhing and grabbing and panting. There it is again, I'm turning into my sister. At this point I was panicking a bit. Was I going to have to keep a lookout? Wait like a dog in the rain for them to...

"That would be swell... Oh, but I can't!" Lola declared with an award-worthy sigh. Her brown eyes swivelled over to me then back to Tad Spencer. "Emily's new and I promised, absolutely promised I'd show her around. Sweet kid like her, I couldn't let her wander around Old Bullworth by _herself_. Maybe another time, honey?" she suggested, making no promises. Spluttering, Tad Spencer shook his head as though rattling his skull to make a good answer come out. Finding none, he nodded slowly- reluctantly.

"I suppose. Until then?" he asked with hopeful eyes.

"Until then..." She tilted her head the slightest bit forward then suddenly grabbed my hand and trotted off, glancing back to blow the starstruck boy a kiss. "A pleasure to see you, baby. Thanks for the candy!"

Then when he was gone: "Sucker."

"He seemed... nice enough," I said quietly as we walked along, watching her hand drop back to my side.

"They're all nice when they want something. Hey, you like chocolates?"

"Yes."

"Of course you do." She shook her head with a rueful smile. "Dumb question. Tell you what, come over mine next time the pom-poms,"- She'd mentioned with some annoyance that she shared with Christy and Angie-"next time the pom-poms get together to take turns sticking fingers down each others' throats and we'll pig out together. I'll do your hair for you if you like. You want ringlets?"

I thought for a moment. Whether Tad Spencer was a sucker or not, he liked Lola, didn't he? Even if he was he didn't deserve to be taken advantage of. But was Lola being mean or just smart? Was Lola leading him around by the brain between his legs, or capitalising on someone she knew wasn't going to stop pestering her? Was it both? Was it neither? Was it any of my business?

"Hello? Are you still in there?" She playfully pretended to knock on my forehead. "We're here, Baby-doll."

We stood in front of a skeletal building with grimy windows little light could push through. It looked down at us, through us, as we edged through the door. The door shut behind us and moaned like old bones as we edged up the rickety staircase, and with every footstep a cloud of dust rose up from the floorboards and made my eyes water. Though someone had tried to cover the smell of damp and old sweat with body spray, it wasn't nearly enough.

"Here we are, Emily. It's a dump, but it's ours. Now come on, I've got people I want you to meet," Lola grinned, shoving me through the door into a world almost sixty years behind mine.


	9. Chapter 9

Hello everyone. I can't promise anything about the quality of this chapter, because I've just finished my exams yesterday and I feel really drained mentally. I'll do my best, but I have to admit this might not be up to standard. For this reason, any suggestions for improvements would be really appreciated.

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><p><span>Chapter 9<span>

I almost choked on the cigarette smoke. My eyes watered at the thick, stony fog as I fanned it away from my face with my hand. If any tears escaped my makeup would run and that might have disappointed Lola, who for her part was pulling me to the centre of the room. Drowning in a smoky sea I followed my new friend blindly as she positioned me in the middle of the room, brushed a little hair from my face and shouted, "Hey! Guys!"

The chatter continued.

"Hey!"

The boys kept talking, only stopping at the sound of a deeper voice.

"Hey, Lola's trying to talk!" one of them yelled. I could be wrong, but I'm almost sure I heard a dark-skinned boy mutter, "What else is new?"

Through the grey haze a dozen eyes- they felt like hundreds- bore into me, scrutinising me like a spare part they were thinking of buying. The biggest boy(I don't know how else to say it without sounding patronising) was the first to lose interest, his eyes quickly returning to the greasy brown cheeseburger in his hands. His lips smacked together, which made me smile. Why did he only look up then? Frowning, he put it down.

"Guys," Lola began with her movie-star voice, gently gripping my left shoulder. Her nails were red, like her lipstick. "This is my new friend, Emily. She's new in town, and I hope you'll all make her feel very welcome."  
>"She don't look like your type," someone muttered.<br>"I didn't ask _you_!" A sharp, metallic edge sliced through her smile. Giggling, her girly grin returned as she led me along by the arm, standing me in front of each boy for a few minutes.

"Em, this is Johnny," she said, pulling to the boy who'd silenced the others."Johnny, baby, this is Emily." She watched him carefully as he nodded to me, a diamond glittering in his ear as his head bent under the grimy, low-watt light. Weirdly, there was no warning in her smile, nothing to say "Hands off, this is mine." Did she trust me, then? Or him? Or did she simply not care either way? My stomach dropped through the floorboards as I wondered if maybe she'd brought me here as some sort of distraction for the other boys to fool around with. I was scared she'd think I was _that_ kind of girl.

(I'm not, I promise.)

I did my best to remember everyone's name. Hamburger Guy was Hal, so that was easy enough to remember. Another name stuck in my head because it was so silly: Peanut.

"Larry, Lola, for God's sake," he groaned. "Crummy Peanut..." He said something in a language I didn't understand and lowered his eyes(brown, I think) to the dusty floor. His hair was greased, but a few strands fell forward over the forehead.  
>"Nice to meet you," I said quietly, straightening up when Lola squeezed my shoulder.<br>"Peanut is one of Johnny's right hand men, ain't you?" she smiled, throwing a glance-order at me: _Look up, Baby-doll! Show him your pretty face._ Was she, I wondered with a jolt of panic, playing matchmaker with me? Wringing my hands behind my back, I chewed the inside of my cheek. No, that wasn't it. Was it? I hadn't told her about Brad. My missing makeup and blonde hair made me look innocent, unknowing and frightened. Needing a friend. Needing someone to look after me. She probably thought she was doing me a favour. Or maybe she just wanted to double-date. I don't know her that well yet.

The next guy was Ricky, who talked with me for thirty minutes. I say "with". It was more "at". For any boys out there: When hitting on girls, avoid at all costs the words "My ex-girlfriend". And especially don't do it while you're drunk and crying. Clenching a can in one hand, he slumped red-faced and whimpered.

"She was an angel. An angel, the bitch!" he declared before dropping to the floor. Lola nudged him with her high heel. Out cold.  
>"Sorry, he does that sometimes. <span>Norton<span>, Ricky's knocked himself out again."

Lumbering over, a large, dark-skinned boy lifted Ricky up and slung him over his shoulder.  
>"I'll get him to bed," he muttered.<br>"You guys should stop him. He'll kill himself like that," Lola said caustically.  
>"He's had it rough."<br>"So?"  
>"Roxy..." Ricky half-whimpered, dangling from the big guy's shoulder.<br>"Roxy isn't here," Norton replied. "Come on, let's get you home. Lola, get his coat."  
>"I'll get it," I offered, picking up the leather jacket. It felt soft and smelt faintly of motor oil.<br>"Thanks." He threw a high-eyebrowed look at Lola.  
>"<em>Emily<em>, this is _Norton. Norton_, this is _Emily_. Thought I'd show her around." Her clear, light voice had a dash of mischief in it. "She looks cute with her hair down, doesn't she?" she added. For a moment I pictured her in a pink suit with a cane.

As I silently burned with embarrassment, my eyes fell to the dusty floor, watching Norton's heavy shadow flicker. A feeble "Hi," was all I could manage.  
>"Nice to meet ya."<br>"Thanks." I willed myself to stand straight. _Come on, Em, it's not like you've never seen a boy before.  
><em>

Once he was gone, Lola passed me a Beam Cola and we sat in one of the dusty rooms and talked. Well, she talked; about her two sisters, her boyfriend, her boy friends who thought they were boyfriends, the times Johnny had to explain otherwise, and some advice for me.

"It's like training a dog. You gotta be tough- else they'll spend their whole lives shitting on your carpet."

I was giggling for a good three seconds before I realised she was serious.  
>"Oh... Uh..."<br>"What? It's true, isn't it?"  
>"For some guys, I guess."<br>"Why, they're all the same really. They don't think with their brains, if you catch my drift."

Catching her drift, I looked down at my bitten fingernails.  
>"Some of them must be okay," I whispered.<br>"You sure about that?"  
>"What about Tad? He seemed nice," I said, the lie leaving a sour taste in my mouth.<br>"He's okay sometimes, but he didn't give me that dress for a meaningful conversation," she said, tapping the side of her nose.  
>"You didn't!" Did she?<br>"No," she smiled, shaking her head coyly. "He was giving it up, why bother? Dumbo thinks I'm a tramp," she added with a hollow laugh like raindrops hitting a drainpipe. "Your face, Em."  
>"Sorry. I didn't mean to judge."<p>

"I'll get over it." She opened a drawer by the bed and pulled out two candles, one of which she handed to me. "The bulb's broken in here," she explained, pulling from her pocket a red matchbook decorated with black cherries. "You're not scared of the dark, right?"  
>"No."<br>"Good." She held the match over her candle then blew it out. "My little sister's scared of the dark. Mazzie."  
>"How old is she?"<br>"Seven in August. And Nina's three." She talked about her sisters with this quiet smile that clashed with her leather pants. "I have a picture of them in my room. Wanna see it tomorrow?"

I nodded, and she smiled at me like I was a little wind-up robot, always saying what I was supposed to.  
>"Good," she said, glancing at the clock. "I think I'm gonna hit the hay now. What about you?" she asked, curling up on the bed. Her leather clothes squeaked.<p>

I thought for a moment. If Lola was asleep, I could stay here or go back into that smoky room with all those strangers. Norton seemed okay, I supposed, and so did Hal and Larry... and Johnny would probably have been nice enough to me if I was Lola's friend. Then again, I wasn't exactly their_ friend_... Would they be annoyed if I hung around. Maybe a nap was a better idea...

I curled up beside Lola and slept in the Tenements for the night. In hindsight, that was probably a good idea, because I'd have spent all night awake if I'd known that Mattie was out of bed and wandering about at 3am.


	10. Chapter 10

By the time the light crept under my eyelids Lola was out of bed. Groaning, I pulled myself up to see her sat cross-legged in her underwear and surrounded by cosmetics. She laughed when she saw me.

"Your morning hair's worse than mine, honey!" With a fluid fling of her arm a hairbrush soared through the air and thudded in my lap. "Sleep well?"

"What time is it?"

"Time to wake up, some of us have stuff to do," she chuckled. "You snore worse than my little gal, you know. And hell, does she snore."

"I don't snore!"

"Must've been someone outside with a machetti, then. C'mere, I'll make your face up for you."

The floor under my feet was dusty and cold. How could she sit on it without shivering? "Aren't you cold?"

"Hardly, it's only September. You think this is cold, you should try it outside at three in the morning," she replied, picking my chin up as though my face was just a lit garden gnome she was painting. "I remember once my mom was fighting with some guy, don't remember his name, and it got so bad I ran three streets to my nonna's without stopping to put my shoes on. My toes looked like blueberries by the time I got there. Shut your eyes, please?" A soft line was dabbed over my eyelids. I wondered if she realised I knew how to use makeup. I didn't say anything, so maybe she didn't. Why spoil her fun?

"Was your mom okay?" I asked.

"Pretty much. That one was a while back. He left pretty quick, see. Think he's in Happy Volts now. You know there's a new diner in town, right?"

"I didn't, no."

"It's near the hairdresser's, you know there?"

"Um... No."

She grinned her candy-kiss grin.

"You don't know much, do ya, baby-doll? Ah well, I'll look after you. Come on, we're going for ice cream."

It was a nice little place really, considering the area. Old chairs, a few red flowers in jam jars. Fridge magnets along the metal bit of the bar. Quite cute, really. The ice cream came three scoops each with a little wafer in light blue bowls; chocolate, strawberry, banana.

"Ew, not banana. I'm not wasting all those calories for banana. You can have that," Lola told me, tipping it out of her bowl and into mine. "You like banana right?"

"It's okay."

"You don't, do you?" she smiled.

"To be honest, no."

"Ah well. You still haven't told me anything about why you moved. What happened?"

"Um..." I glanced around, looking for help. "There were a lot of reasons," I tried, hoping that would put her off. "All very boring."

"I'm your friend," she countered, scooping up a sliver of pink ice cream. "It's my job to care about boring stuff. Come on, or I'll make something up. Now let me see..." Leaning forward, she fixed her cat's eyes on me, propping her cheek up on her hand. "I think you robbed a bank."

"No!"

"You killed a man with a stocking."

"No..." I found myself starting to giggle a bit.

"You hijacked an ice cream van and went all grand theft auto with it. Then you were chased by the police and threw popsicles at innocent pedestrians."

"Now you're just being stupid."

"Well tell me what did happen. I think you were in an orgy with - you're so red! Aww, poor baby. Come on, then, spill it."

I drew a breath. Lola was my friend, so I could trust her - right? She wasn't going to think badly of me, I hoped. She was so nice, so laid back... Surely she wouldn't...

"Well, you see-"

"Wait." She halted me with her hand and mouthed something with her pretty, pink pout: "Behind you."

Behind me was a boy, the same one that gave Lola chocolates a few days before. On his table sat a beam cola and when I looked at his eyes, they were the same colour as the can. He didn't say anything, but I knew that look in his eye. Everyone knows that look: the one a spider gives a fly. As Lola rose from her chair I nudged her shin with my foot under the table.

"Wait here." She sauntered over and took a spare seat at his table. "Hey there, sweetie. How you doin'?"

"Exquisitely," he replied with a smile. His eye's glistened like the wing of a fly. "And you?"

"Well I'm much better for seeing you. I'm out with my friend, as you can see. You remember Emily?" she smiled, gesturing to me. "Doesn't she look sweet? Come on, honey, say hello."

His face fell into a look of shock vs contempt when I stood up. Had I done something wrong? Smoothing out my sleep-crumpled dress I realised with a jolt. The dress! Lola's dress! She got it from _him, _and as I start to spew sorries she swooped in and saved me.

"Doesn't she look nice in that colour? It's like it was made for her."

"It looks very familiar," he muttered, turning his head.

"Oh, sweetie, is that what you're mad at?" she asked, rolling her eyes. Sweetly, swiftly, she fell into his lap and looped her arms around his neck. "Well I _could_ have worn it myself, but you didn't get my measurements right! My little Em's a bit more delicate than me, so it fits her nicely, but I have a couple more inches here and there. You should know that, honey." She leaned in and whispered in a voice that made both me and him squirm for different reasons. "Maybe you should check my measurements next time, huh?"

He gulped like a fish and nodded looking very, very red.

"Good boy." In a flash she was up with her arm linked through mine. "Well, I wish we could stop and chit-chat, but Em and I have stuff to do. See ya around," she drawled, blowing a kiss as she led me through the exit. "Like a fucking puppy-dog. Em, be a sweetheart and don't tell Johnny about this."

"I wasn't going to."

"Didn't think so, really, just thought I should say. Funny, isn't it? These guys," she said as she clacked along the street. "They think they can buy everything. Take that dress. Not even my style, and he thinks I'll roll over. They think I'm some whore, ya know."

"I wouldn't say that..."

"They wouldn't say it either, not to my face, but they think it. Well screw them," she sneered, tossing her hair. "Screw Tad, screw Gord - double-screw Pinky, the little- what are you laughing at?"

"N-nothing," I chuckled behind my mouth. "It's just... I don't know."

"Tell me."

"Well... you change so quick. A few minutes ago he was sweetie and honey and..." I watched her lip curl and stopped.

"And?" she prodded.

"And now you hate him. I don't get it."

"Oh, I hated him ten minutes ago too, sweetie, I just don't show it to his face. Acting, baby-doll. I'm gonna go to Broadway one day. Then I can do that all day and get paid for it. You could come with me," she added, smiling at me. "We'd be a team."

"What would I do?"

"You'd act too. I could teach you."

"I'm not very good. I get stage fright."

"Have you tried?"

"Once, in elementary school. I forgot my line and burst into tears."

"Aww!" She slung an arm around me in a half-hug. "Poor baby." Glancing up at the salmon sky, she squeaked. "Crap, we better get back to the Tenements before the fellas start missing us. Well, missing you."

"Me?"

"They won't miss me, that's for sure. Well, Lefty might."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"You'll learn. Come on. Actually, let's go to nonna's first and freshen up. You can walk in heels, right?"

"Sort of."

"Good," she smiled, a hint of mischief winking in her big, brown eyes. What was going on in her head? "Come on, then. There's something I want you to try out for me."

* * *

><p>I literally just banged this chapter out, so I don't expect it to be much good. Please be harsh in any feedback you give if you can be. Anyway, a few quick questions:<p>

1) What parts of the greaser gang would you like me to explore more of?

2) What do you think of the friendship between Lola and Emily so far?

3) How can I improve this a bit?


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